


Run to Me, Lover

by millihelenic



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Missing Scene, Other, POV First Person, Venom POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millihelenic/pseuds/millihelenic
Summary: How Venom gets back to Eddie.





	Run to Me, Lover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blindmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindmadness/gifts).



_Rare is this love, keep it covered_  
_I need you to run to me, run to me, lover_  
_Run ’til you feel your lungs bleeding_

—Hozier, “Run”

 

The worst thing about being apart from you is that I can’t tell you that I’m still alive. I said goodbye, and you must have thought that it was a final one. But it was only a pause. 

I saw you plunge into the bay. And although most of me was burned up by the flames, a piece of me plunged into the bay, too. Funnily enough, I landed just a few feet away from you. But I was too weak to reach out and touch your hand like I had moments before. 

Instead, I was only strong enough to force myself into the nearest fish. Let me tell you, that fish was even more of a dumbass than you. Had about the brain capacity of a pea. But it was enough to keep me moving. You’d already gone by then, but I got close enough to the shore that I could get myself into some multi-legged creature, something hard-shelled I didn’t even know the name of, something functional enough to let me scuttle up onto the sand.

And then I was reaching out to some other human. I didn’t even know who that human was. All I knew was that it wasn’t you. I could read their mind and access their memories, but the way their body felt against mine just wasn’t right. It was like the time we got caught in the rain on the way back from the corner store with a plastic bag of tater tots. You’d forgotten to tie off the bag, so it had gotten half-full of rain. After we’d shut the apartment door, you’d squeezed the bag, because sometimes you’re five years old and you delight in squishy sounds and weird textures, and feeling the way the tater tots slipped in their bag, and the way the tater tot bag slid and oozed in the water as the plastic bag clung to it, disgusting and ill-fitting and wrong, like skin separating from meat… That’s how it’d felt being inside that other person’s body. I knew they were a person. I knew they had a partner, a career, a life. But still I couldn’t bring myself to care.

All I could do was ignore the overwhelming feeling of wrongness and use them to get myself closer to you.

For two days I walked through the streets of San Francisco. I checked your apartment first, but you weren’t there. I should’ve known. Human bodies are fragile without us. That’s why you have hospitals. So I checked the hospital, but they said they couldn’t even confirm whether you were there. I tried arguing. I tried yelling, screaming, but they threw me out. I left that body, tried another, tried ten more, none with any more power to bend your human rules.

By that point, I was too weak to try to find Anne or Dan. It’s tiring, being in hosts who don’t fit right. I’d forgotten how much of a drain it is, focusing just on homeostasis when the very body you’re in is trying to kill you. When yet another host succumbed, I ended up crawling into the body of an alleycat and curling into a cardboard box, purring just to comfort myself, too exhausted to move.

I don’t know how much time passes. It takes me a while to realize that the rumbles vibrating through my spine aren’t my purrs, but something more familiar: the sound of your motorbike coming up the alley, slowing to a chug as you pull to a stop and kick down the stand. You must have gotten it repaired. You pull off your helmet and hop off the bike. Of course I’d never forget the sound of your footsteps; you can identify humans as much by their gait as by their faces and their fingerprints. You squat down and reach a hand out, your scent comforting as you say with a smile, “Hey, kitty. You look lonely.”

I crack open my eyes. So do you: Your cheeks are a little more hollow, your frame worse for wear, but I told you, I showed you, I can fix that. I can heal you. 

I lean forward and close the gap between us, resting my cheek against your palm, reaching my black tendrils out to you.

_**Hello, Eddie.** _

We are home.


End file.
